


Fragile

by Volts



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Pining, Pre-OT3, Pre-Relationship, except it's not so accidental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23898094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volts/pseuds/Volts
Summary: “Why? Why must you go?” Yennefer could feel the anger building inside her, her words tasting bitter.“I-” and, at the heartbreak on Jaskier's face, Yennefer knew.“Why must you torture yourself?” she asked, reaching for him, her hand went to his chest, over his heart – still beating despite its cracks.“I- just once. At least, before,” his voice cracked and he fixed a broken smile over his lips, “I’ll be back by morning.”And he left, hands twisting as he ducked through the low tavern door. She had failed. His heart wouldn’t take it.*Pre OT3. After a night performing Jaskier is approached by an old flame. Yennefer reflects on her relationship with Jaskier and of Jaskier as a father.(I'd recommend reading chapter 2 of limerental's 'That's Dynamic - Yennskier ficlet collection' first, as this is heavily inspired by it)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt/Jaskier but it's more background, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Past Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Female Character
Comments: 14
Kudos: 138





	Fragile

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [That's Dynamic - Yennskier ficlet collection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23770213) by [limerental](https://archiveofourown.org/users/limerental/pseuds/limerental). 



Yennefer awoke as dawn light broke through the windows. Beside her Geralt shifted, his Witcher senses acknowledging her movement but ultimately deciding she was to be trusted, before settling back to sleep.

The rest of the bed was empty, Jaskier had not returned.

X

The trio had arrived yesterday morning amidst a downpour. Geralt had beelined for the noticeboard outside the tavern and had quickly picked up a contract for a pack of Nekkers in a nearby wood.

Geralt had set about preparing for the upcoming fight, methodically checking his armour, weapons and potions. He had remarked tightly that he was running low and Yennefer had offered, equally as gruffly, that she could pick up ingredients at the apothecary. Neither of them were good at talking or asking for assistance.

“I’ll get the ingredients we need,” Yennefer had said, “whilst you find the blacksmith for you armour. Then we can be on our way tomorrow.” _Closer to Ciri,_ was left unsaid.

Jaskier had been amenable to their plans and had accompanied their shopping tripping. He pulled them from market stall to cart, trailed after them after getting left behind chatting to a perfume merchant, and generally made getting soaked to the skin more bearable.

Yennefer had found herself smiling instead of snapping and Geralt’s jaw had untightened and Yennefer had seen him turn away so no one could – Melitele forbid – catch him grinning.

When the afternoon sun peaked through the clouds, Geralt saddled Roach and set out for the contract. Jaskier and Yennefer had both offered to accompany him, of course, either for the view or as back up. But, as Geralt had said, there was only payment for the contract; Jaskier would make better coin charming the locals.

Geralt’s unspoken _‘Look after him’_ to Yennefer had been replied with a nod.

This fragile new thing between them… it frightened Yennefer. To have the care of Geralt was one matter; a dance they both knew – two damaged, _unloved_ , people, trying, _trying_ so hard…

But the love of Jaskier, it was as plain as the nose on his face, as unremarkable as those blue eyes you could lose yourself in. For Jaskier loving was as easy as breathing yet it was clear his heart had been drowned before. Suffocated, denied oxygen.

And yet he still loved.

Still chose to love Geralt.

Still chose to love Yennefer.

He just wanted love in return. A home. A place to be safe. Just like Geralt and Yennefer.

Yennefer had seen it in his eyes, his tense shoulders, his false smiles when they passed through towns confronted with former lovers and might-have-beens. She saw him smile at Ciri and press a kiss to the child’s forehead and smile wider as Ciri jumped on Geralt’s back.

Yennefer promised to look after him, look after his heart.

Geralt had then rode away, promising he’d be back by midnight at earliest, dawn at latest. He hadn’t kissed them goodbye but Yennefer could tell he had wanted to and saw it, as if prophesised, in their near future.

Such a fragile thing.

Yennefer and Jaskier had gone to the Inn for a midday nap, he’d be performing late into the night after all.

They’d lain there, side by side, hands just touching. She could hear the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he slept. He wasn’t completely human, probably had elven blood in him, but he was mortal. He wasn’t a Witcher. He wasn’t a mage. Yennefer had looked at him asleep beside her, at his trusting face, and felt an overwhelming surge to protect.

She would love this bard.

Dressing for his performance that night (she watched as he prepared as diligently as if it were for a Queen or Duchess), he tucked a sprig of lavender behind her ear with a coy smile and she laughed, carefree and light.

She walked them to the tavern, his hand at her elbow as she led. She ordered the decent wine, not piss-vinegar but not something she’d lose her head to either – she was here to watch after all.

Jaskier would smile at her, fleetingly, throughout his set, and when he sang of the violet eyed sorceress, the saviour of Sodden, she had to temper her smile so as to upkeep her reputation. Yennefer of Vengerberg, mage of Aretuza, did not, publicly, melt for bards in no-name taverns. ( _In private…_ )

Yennefer’s night soured as Jaskier finished his set and was approached by a woman in her thirties. The stranger put a hand on Jaskier’s arm and spoke to him imploringly, craning her neck up to meet his eyes. A variety of emotions flickered over the bards’ face, surprise, shock, worry, hope.

But not lust. Yennefer did not have Geralt’s enhanced nose but she did not need it to identify lust on Jaskier. So, if this woman was not propositioning Jaskier, what did she want?

Relief momentarily flashed through Yennefer as he approached her table, but was quashed at his words. Jealously lapped at her heart.

“Yenna, I have to go, I’ll be back tomorrow, I swear. Take my lute, I wouldn’t leave it behind,” _Wouldn’t leave you behind._

“Why? Why must you go?” Yennefer could feel the anger building inside her, her words tasting bitter.

“I-” and, at the heartbreak on his face, Yennefer knew. Had witnessed it before. Jaskier did his best to be a father to Ciri but she was Geralt’s child truly, in manner and bond, with Jaskier banded with Eskel and Lambert as doting Uncles. She had seen his envy, directed even at herself, whenever she fussed over Ciri as only a Mother could.

“Why must you torture yourself?” she asked, reaching for him, her hand went to his chest, over his heart – still beating despite its cracks.

“I- just once. At least, before,” his voice cracked and he fixed a broken smile over his lips, “I’ll be back by morning.”

And he left, hands twisting as he ducked through the low tavern door. She had failed. His heart wouldn’t take it.

X

As Yennefer rose from the bed, Jaskier’s lute propped up beside it, and dressed, a bird chirped its first song of the day. She smiled weakly. Without knowing why her feet led her out the door, down the stairs and into the small room that doubled as Inn, Office and bar.

A ‘shushing’ noise drew her attention to a corner shaded by the stairs. Relief and sympathy washed over her. Jaskier must have arrived at quite an hour to have spent the night on a hard bench rather than waking her and Geralt.

“Bard?” he did not look up. He was focussed entirely on something in his arms.

Yennefer approached. Cradled, oh-so carefully, in his arms was a baby. Tentatively, so as not to startle either of them, she sat next to Jaskier on the bench. His face was so expressive. Tears ran freely down his cheeks; his eyes were wide and somehow bluer with moisture. A day of stubble framed his mouth and his hair was tousled. Yennefer’s gaze followed his to the baby, so fragile, in his strong arms

“Huh,” Yennefer breathes out.

“He’s so small,” Jaskier whispers back, sounding proud -for what the cold part of Yennefer’s brain doesn’t know, babies are small, people have them every day, and yet…

“He’s beautiful,” the child is asleep, minutely shifting in his father’s arms. Yennefer touches Jaskier’s arm carefully, hooking her chin over his shoulder so she can look down. Jaskier nods.

“I-” he starts, quietly as if trying not to disturb the peace – something so out of character Yennefer is sure he must be in some sort of shock, “- I get to keep him.”

“You’re staying?” she asks, flatly, though all evidence suggest otherwise – why would he bring his son here if he were staying?

“No. I’d never leave you and Geralt. Not if I could help it. I thought Cidaris or Kerack, somewhere on the coast. Somewhere secluded so you could do your magic in peace, but not so far out Geralt has to go over mountains to find work. Somewhere I could - could watch him grow,” Jaskier’s voice trailed off thickly towards the end.

“- that is – if that – Gods here I go running before I could walk, talking rot even-”

Yennefer cut him off, “The mother?”

“- why – Anna? Oh. She’s going off to study medicine with a healer in Toussaint, it’s been her dream since a child but seeing me last night … she doesn’t have to leave him to strangers…”

Yennefer hated to ask the next question, better to ask it now than break hearts later, “and you’re sure…” she trailed off as tactfully as she could, usually she valued the blunt approach but Jaskier was … fragile right now.

“We passed through here about a year ago. He’s nearing 3 months old. He has my eyes…” as if to prove the point the baby opened his eyes to reveal a very familiar shade of blue.

Now Yennefer knew that pale-skinned children’s eyes could change colour from blue from about 6 months old but that exact shade left her in no doubt. She allowed herself to smile, it was slightly wet.

The baby blinked bleary eyed up at them and Yennefer felt herself falling; she would do anything for this baby. Gingerly Jaskier rocked him and, although he obviously couldn’t smile yet, the baby blinked contentedly upwards. One of his tiny hands gripped Jaskier’s finger and the bard laughed, before starting to hum a lullaby.

“Can I hold him?” Yennefer found herself asking, the words falling unbidden from her mouth. She found it so difficult to ask; she had grown used to ordering, to taking.

Surprise and delight flittered across Jaskier’s face and, not breaking his hum or his rocking, held the baby out to her.

Terror ripped through her as Yennefer remembered the last baby she had held. Her arms came up instinctively to protect, to shield the bundle in her arms from the world, the pain, the - there was a hum in her ear, a weight on her shoulder.

Jaskier’s head rested there, nose to collarbone. The baby had once again gripped his finger, the bard’s other hand rested between her shoulder blades - grounding her.

Experimentally she rocked the baby in time to Jaskier’s tune.

Footsteps came down the stairs and Geralt clattered into view, relaxing at the sight of them.

Geralt smiled, eyes shining topaz in the early morning light. Jaskier’s sleepy humming tickled Yennefer’s neck. The baby shifting in their arms. Soon they’d see Ciri.

This fragile thing?

It was _theirs._

_And it was **Strong**._

**Author's Note:**

> * not pictured: Geralt's confused, "Why the fuck is there a baby?", said baby starting to cry at the unfamiliar deep voice, and Yennefer hastily passing child back to Jaskier. (who is delighted because usually he doesn't stay long enough to actually *parent* his kids).
> 
> x
> 
> Also I couldn't think of a baby's name.
> 
> Just want to say A) This was inspired by the 2nd Chapter of limerental's 'That's Dynamic - Yennskier ficlet collection' go check it out right now, there should be a link somewhere B) I realise this has vey little dialogue - I found getting their voices difficult. C) This was supposed to be a quick 'yennefer wakes up, goes down stairs, finds jaskier with a baby fic' then she got feelings. D) I know nothing about babies. 5 people I know have had babies in the last year but i've not seen them. The last baby I held was my Dad's God-daughter and she's just finishing her first year at college (!)
> 
> You can find me on tumblr. rn it's a joey batey / witcher mess tbh. @whatkindofnameisvolta


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